


I Missed You

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [66]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian knew Mickey loved hearing him say I missed you even if he only left for two, long shitty, days, and Ian also knew that Mickey loved getting fucked. By Ian." </p><p>"Anon Asked - "Hi!:) I was wondering whether u could do one of ur fics where Ian goes away for a couple of days and really misses Mickey and when he gets back they have some really great sex!!?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Missed You

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this was pretty cute so yeah. It's my birthday today, so I'm slightly hammered at this point! BUT I wanted to post this soooo, hope you like it!!!
> 
> I LITERALLY JUST MADE A FIC FULL OF SMUT AND I HOPE IT ISN'T TOO SOPPY OR ANYTHING BUT I REALLLY NEEDED THIS. PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK???

Just past midnight, Ian finally gets home after two days slumming it out at Lip's college – effectively trying to give his brother advice on how to treat someone right – and it was two days too many. To be honest, Ian was thriving for Mickey's touch, taste, scent, hell – even the way he'd burp as he lazily trolled around the apartment in nothing but a pair of white socks. He literally ran the stairs, tripping numerously step after step, nearly knocking out the old Lady from 4B, just to get to their front door.

Ian was excited, buzzing internally at the thought of seeing Mickey. He had missed him. More than he should. Ian knows Mickey will be all like _stop being a fucking sap and get in me,_ but Ian didn't give a shit. Ian knew Mickey loved hearing him say _I missed you_ even if he only left for two, long shitty, days, and Ian also knew that Mickey loved getting fucked. By Ian. Roughly, gently, whatever the mood was. This time, Ian felt the _need_ to touch Mickey's skin, he _yearned_ for the older boy to wrap his legs around his waist and pull him closer.

He fumbles helplessly for his keys, dropping them to the floor accidentally in a rush to push back that door. He knew what was behind it. And he fucking loved it. He bends quickly to retrieve the keys, pulling out the right one and pushing it through into the lock of the door. With his bag still slung at his shoulder, Ian turns the key and pushes hard against the slightly jammed – yes, at one point Mickey and Ian couldn't help themselves _even_ before they got through the door, which obviously ended in slightly bent hinges – door.

As soon as the wooden frame moves forward, he's faced with a tired, grumpy-looking, man that he was pretty damn proud to call his boyfriend. Ian's eyes widen, his breath still hitching from the rush of excitement, his hands still holding the key that was pressed into the door. Mickey's rubbing at his eyes, smirk balancing against his lips as he took in the exhausted man before him. Ian then realises that Mickey had probably heard him rummaging around behind the door, rattling the key like someone addicted to crack. He smiles shyly, slowly taking the key out of the door.

Mickey's in nothing but a pair of Ian's sweat pants, his hair all tussled, eyes hooded with sleep. The darkness of the apartment hangs over them, the light passing through the broken blinds shedding a ray against Mickey's pale chest. The brunette runs a hand through his hair, smirking. “Hey, Gallagher.”

Ian can't find words. He's speechless. It had been two fucking days but to him, without having Mickey sprawled by his side for the past two mornings, it felt like two years. He stares at Mickey from where he's standing in the doorway. He drops his bag by his feet. The moment is too short for words.

Ian rushes from the door, kicking it shut behind him. Mickey's lips part as he lets out a jagged, relieving, breath. Ian feels Mickey surrender himself as Ian's fingers slide up at his neck, pressing into his scalp, gripped handfuls of hair with a softness to his fingers. Mickey grins into kiss, laughing breathlessly as Ian hungrily fought his mouth against his. Ian's hands move down from Mickey's neck, trailing the curve of his back and down to the cushion of his ass, squeezing it teasingly. Mickey cups Ian's face, dragging his body closer as they stumbled backwards, further into the apartment.

“ _Fuck,”_ Ian breathes before attaching their lips back together, his hips rolling. “I've missed you so fucking much.” There's a beauty, lying beneath the lustfulness of the kiss, something wild but delicate about the whole thing. Ian can't really put his finger on it, he didn't know how, but he knew he couldn't _ever_ feel like this with anyone else. It was rare. It was Mickey. Of course it was.

Mickey giggles against his lips, his hands tugging desperately at the collar of Ian's jacket, willing to pull it off. Ian pulls his hands away from Mickey to remove it, humming sensitively into the kiss as Mickey's hands reach his face in desperation not to loose the kiss. He pulls back, once Ian's rid of his jacket, and in a sharp exhale he confesses, “I missed you too, man.”

Ian leads them over to the kitchen, his hands slipping beneath the waistband of Mickey's sweats and over the smooth skin of his ass. He groans at the taste of Mickey's mouth, licking through the seam of his lips to feel the soft texture of the other man's tongue. “ _Hm,”_ He smiles against their Mickey's, leading him over to the counter. Gently, he presses him up against it, his playing at the older boys hips.

The older man parts his legs, inviting Ian in. He scoops a hand at the back of Ian's neck, tugging lightly at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. He bites at Ian's bottom lip, pulling at it with his teeth before releasing it completely. Ian cries out with a whimpering moan, pressing himself closer to Mickey, their dicks crying out from the blocking layers between them. Impatiently, Mickey reaches for Ian's belt, unbuckling it with frantic fingers as his lips moved hungrily, passionately, with Ian's.

Ian's back slightly arches, his lips brushing against Mickey's as he lets out a earned gasp, when the brunette's cold hands slip beneath his pants, wrapping themselves around his cock. He hisses, biting down against his lip, the close proximity too much to bare. Mickey looked so beautiful like this; panting hard, chest heaving with sweat, legs trembling with hunger as his hands worked down Ian's cock with a swift flick of the wrist. They both look at each-other, deeply, as if they were asking an innocent question that neither of them knew the answer to. They didn't need to know the answer, this _was_ the answer.

Mickey's hand pumped slowly against Ian's cock, the other hooked to Ian's hips as they bucked to fuck into his palm. Ian was trembling against him, his hands clawing into the skin of his back, and Mickey hooked his leg around Ian's calf, drawing him in for more. They kiss again, their lips hooking together like they were a puzzle piece in the words trickiest jigsaw; they finally were placed in the right position, their bodies _made_ for each-other and no one else.

Lust consumed the small space where they were stood, and Ian knew the walk to the bed would take too long. It didn't matter. He rolls his hips into Mickey's hand, grunting and panting breathlessly as Mickey worked his way to unravel him. He hooks a hand around Mickey's thigh, lifting it up to shield at his hip. He kisses roughly into Mickey's mouth, consuming him completely, taking it all in.

Mickey had the kind of kiss that absorbed you, that turned off your brain. It could lift skies and move mountains, it made the bad days seem hopeful. Ian adored this. Never would he ever get rid of it. Kissing Mickey was nothing he'd ever imagined. It was _even_ better. He felt like he could do this for the rest of his life; funny enough, he had already taken a vow to do just that.

The smaller man takes the hint and releases his hand from Ian's cock, grinning against their lips as he felt Ian's body flinch at the loss of touch. He loops his arms around Ian's neck, jumping up and wrapping his legs around his waist. There's a light silence, no speaking at all, and they didn't need noise. They had noise all their life, it never stopped, and it felt more than good to have this moment together.

Ian's hands support Mickey's body, holding firmly against his thighs as he lifted him higher against his body. He kisses gently, softly, at Mickey's jaw, tracing the line leading down the column of Mickey's neck. He licks away the roll of sweat, flickering his tongue as he sucked a mark against Mickey's pale skin. The brunette bites at his lip, licking at the corners of his mouth, fingers clawing at Ian's back through his grey shirt. “ _Fuck,_ Ian.” Mickey whines, arching his body into Ian's.

Effortlessly, Ian moves them through the apartment, kissing into Mickey's skin, hands holding him up, leading them down the hall and into their bedroom. He stops at the end of the bed, still kissing Mickey with a passion that only the two of them knew. He smiles brightly, laughing against Mickey's lips, causing the other man to shake with laughter before Ian gently placed him against the end of the bed.

Mickey huffs against the springs, grinning deviously towards Ian, his eyes still hooded but filled with heat. Ian leans over, hovering himself over Mickey, standing himself between the older man's legs. Mickey reaches up, pushing away a strand of hair fallen at Ian's eyes. “God, I fucking love you.”

Ian's face breaks into a smile, one that filled hearts, one that warmed up Mickey's chest like a fire in the winter. The redhead giggles - _Oh, how Mickey loved that sound,_ \- gently placing a kiss against Mickey's wet lips before pulling back with a shy expression, “I love you, too.”

Those three words – _I love you –_ they were so definite, direct. They didn't lie. They didn't mean anything else, unless you wanted them to. Ian could look into Mickey's eyes and know, for _definite,_ that he was telling the truth. Really, the only way you can tell that look – the same one Mandy had mentioned years earlier – was if you knew for _definite_ that you loved them too

Mickey's face lights up like the torch signal of a lighthouse – signalling Ian to _stay,_ to come home. Ian can't bear to think what it would be like _not_ to have this, not being able to see Mickey's face shyly smile each time he said those words. He leans down, hands running down the length of Mickey's exposed chest. His fingers skim over Mickey's nipple, pinching playfully, turning the nib pebble hard with arousal. Ian grins, his face starting to hurt. He had always been able to know the certain touches that made Mickey go crazy.

Ian presses a light peck against Mickey's lips, his breath hot against his skin. Mickey's gasps grow sharp as the younger man runs his hands lower, down the arrow of hair by his abdomen. Ian wraps his fingers around him, traces his thumb over the sensitive, already leaking, cock. Mickey trails his hand up Ian's arms, before grabbing a handful of red hair, his fingers tightening at each stroke of Ian's wrist. It doesn't take Mickey long to grow fully hard, it was easy when Ian like a God – all determined and powering – and Ian only needs to stroke his cock a couple of times before he grows completely hard.

Slowly, Ian pulls off Mickey's pants with his freehand, other one still working at his cock. Mickey hoists his hips off the bed, letting Ian have some room to pull them off. He leans up on his elbows, watching Ian with a clouded vision consumed by the heat built up in his body. Ian lies his lips against the crown of his cock, darting out his tongue at the tip, his red hair becoming a small curtain against Mickey's lap.

Mickey's hand grips harder as Ian engulfed him to the root. Ian breaths in through his nose, pushing Mickey's cock to the back of his throat. Mickey desperately tries to find some ground, knocking his head back against the sheets as Ian pulls off, spit falling down the length of his dick. One of the brunettes hands fist into the sheets, the other harshly gripping to Ian as if at any moment he would vanish into thin air, his body wanted to rock, thrust, rut deeply into the recesses of Ian's mouth.

Ian hums around him, pulling off before licking up the thick vein running up Mickey's cock. Mickey feels himself squirming, his hands slightly trembling, legs hooking around Ian's back. The sounds of Ian's mouth; the spit, the sweet hum, the incoherent groaning; was like a gentle melody on the wind, embracing him, stealing his whole mind completely.

Shuddering, Mickey gasps sharply, the air trapped in his lungs as Ian swallowed him whole. His chest tightens and in the pit of his stomach brewed the heat and fire that always did when Ian embraced him like this. His fingers claw into the sheets, one hand still fisted into Ian's hair. Ian groans around his cock, his own brushing against the rough fabric of his boxers. He puffs out his cheeks and pulls back off Mickey's length, using his hand to stroke Mickey a couple of times before carrying on.

“ _Fuck,_ Ian.” Mickey manages to breathe, knocking his head back against the sheets. He clamps his eyes shut, breath hitching each time he let out a whimpering moan. His body arches involuntarily, back lifting off the bed. Ian's hand reaches to his hip, pushing him back against the sheets with a silent demand.

Ian licks at the tip, flickering his tongue over the slit with pure concentration spread against his flushed face. His hand rubs against the joint of Mickey's hip, curving around the bone protectively, as if he was stamping into Mickey's skin; _You're mine._ He breathes heavily through his nose, looking up towards Mickey through his lashes, who's helplessly squirming and whispering pleads of Ian's name. He bobs his head a couple more times, relishing in Mickey unravelling and loosing control under his mouth and cold fingers.

Mickey hisses through his teeth, tossing his head, “Come _on,_ man. Just – Please, just-” His words are cut short when Ian swallows him down again, his head moving faster by the second. Mickey swears he's loosing his mind, or any control really; Ian's mouth is a delicacy, it's all warm and wet around him that he can't help curl his toes which are trembling around Ian's back.

Ian huffs out a cheeky laugh, before pulling off completely, spit still in the corners of his lips and drooling down the pink skin of Mickey's cock. “Okay.” He smirks, before standing up, leaving Mickey begging for more, panting heavily against the mattress of the bed. Ian strips from his shirt, tossing it to the side before he pulls off his pants and sheds of his, already soaked, boxers.

The brunette watches in awe, licking at his lips as he takes in Ian's toned chest that glimmered in sweat. He goes he reach for his throbbing cock, but Ian's hands are too quick and are already pulling him up from the bed. The redhead grips at his waist, smacking their chests together as he crushes their lips roughly, as though this kiss might be the last. Holding the back of Mickey's head, his lips explore the other man's mouth, tongue smoothing over the soft texture of Mickey's, his smile curling around him.

Suddenly, Ian shifts them around, sitting himself at the end of the bed, Mickey between his legs still stood up, mouths still attached; kissing, biting. Ian gasps, his breath brushing delicately against the skin of Mickey's lips. He runs his hand down the older man's back, wrapping his arms around his waist, tugging towards his lap. Mickey takes the hint, one arm looping around Ian's neck, his legs shield themselves at either side of Ian's hips as he plants himself onto the redhead's lap, their chests literally smacked together.

Ian nips at his jaw, moaning at the close but needed touch, following the defined line towards the damp column of his neck. Mickey grunts impatiently, rocking himself against Ian's cock. He rolls his hips, moving his head to the side of Ian's lips trail from his neck and down to the bump of his shoulder. Fingers scratching into the others back, Mickey feels himself loosing _every_ ounce of control, his whole body pleading and begging to be connected with Ian's.

Hand firmly pressed to the curve of Mickey's back, Ian kisses over the brunette's chest, mouth forming silent pledges against his skin, marking him with a delicate touch of his lips that he only hoped would be tattooed forever. Mickey hums gratefully, letting out sharp, sweet gasps that echoed through the quiet apartment. He continues to press kisses into Ian's hair, arms hooked around his neck, legs clenching either side of Ian. Their cocks brushed, causing the two of them to cry out in a sense of urgency and frustration.

“ _Ugh,”_ Mickey whimpered, biting down at his bottom lip – most likely drawing blood – as Ian's mouth ran over his hardened nipples, licking over them a little. Mickey feels himself rut, his hips flinching against Ian's. His hands become tense, nails digging into the skin of Ian's pale shoulder, red marks already forming there through Mickey's inability to stay controlled.

Ian pecks light kisses against Mickey's chest, smiling endearingly, before lifting his head. He lets his mouth fall open, his hand brushing away a strand of stray hair fallen before Mickey's eyes. He sighs in awe, heart thudding rapidly in his chest with the sight of Mickey all beautiful and flustered, literally wrapped around him. His hand trails to Mickey's thigh, stroking it lightly with the pad of his fingers. Ian's other hand cups Mickey's face, squeezing softly before he pressed his lips against his, slowly entering him, delicately moving his mouth against Mickey's.

Mickey threads his fingers through Ian's red, slightly damp with sweat, hair, and flows with the kiss, as if angelically. It felt like Ian had embedded himself with his veins, each touch shooting a buzz through his blood and attacking his brain with a wave of sensation; Mickey could guess, through the usual feeling, that it was what people knew as the _adrenaline of Love._

Ian slides a finger down Mickey's ass, pressing it against the tight, puckered hole that waited for him. Mickey hisses, biting down onto Ian's shoulder as the other man slowly pushed through his walls. It's uncomfortable at first, Ian's finger pushing through and just not yet hitting the spot. Until – of course – Ian crooks his finger, moving it back and forth swiftly, teasingly feeling for the hard spot that made Mickey's insides crumble.

And he hits it. Not once. Not twice. But every fucking time.

Then he adds another, scissoring his fingers inside of Mickey, causing the older boy to thrive and wriggle against him as his moans drowned out the sirens and screams of cars driving past the apartment block. Ian rests his forehead against Mickey's shoulder, concentrating on the movement of his fingers, making sure that Mickey would end up begging for it at some point. “This want you want, Mick?” He asks, voice barely audible, but clear enough.

Mickey frantically nods his head, letting out a disorientated moan as his breath hitched in his throat. He grinds his teeth together, hand still tugging at the tussled hair against Ian's scalp. He pushes his ass back against Ian's fingers, his legs trembling at either side of Ian's hips. Mickey feels the tension build in the pit of his stomach as Ian's fingers picked up the speed and relentlessly opened him up.

“Jesus, fuck -” Mickey grits, bearing his teeth against Ian's shoulder. “Just – _fucking_ get _in_ me.”

Ian lets out a little chuckle, mostly in victory but for the most part amused by Mickey's desperate pleads for Ian's dick. He makes sure Mickey's fully ready, opening him up just a little bit more. Ian licks his lips, pressing a damp kiss against the bump of Mickey's shoulder. When he pulls his fingers out, he hears Mickey whine through the empty feeling hallowing in his ass. Ian leans back a little, shifting Mickey higher against his lap. Quickly, in a scramble, he leans over to the pillow, grabbing the half-full tub of lube and a condom – Mickey was _obviously_ waiting for this – Ian rips the wrapper open with his teeth, passing the lubricated plastic to Mickey.

“Jesus, you growing old there, Gallagher?” Mickey scoffs, still a little exasperated. He leans up against his knees, holding onto Ian's broad shoulder as he slowly rolls the condom down Ian's length, pressing the base a little. Ian gasps, nearly dropping the lube in a flinch.

Mickey grows impatient, “Come the fuck on, Jeez, man.” He grabs the tub of lube, popping the cap before dipping his own fingers in. Slowly, he slicks up Ian's cock, pressing his fingers against the throbbing skin as he worked his hand with a couple of tender strokes. He gathers himself, before lining his ass against the tip of Ian's cock.

The redheads hands find Mickey's hips, holding them steady as Mickey presses his hole against the tip of Ian's cock. He gulps, trying to regain his strength after nearly crumbling in the sight of Mickey all hot and demanding. Ian presses his face into Mickey's chest as the brunette pushes himself down half-way, instantly adjusting to the feeling that he'd missed for two – long fucking – days. “Shit.” Ian whispers, fingers clawing.

“Yeah,” Mickey laughs, resting his head against Ian's shoulder. “Shit.” It takes a minute, but with a sharp exhale, Mickey plants himself fully against Ian's cock, causing the other man toes to curl against the wooden floor of the bedroom. Mickey shifts himself in Ian's lap, his arms looped around his back as he started to move gently, rocking his hips with a click.

Ian's breathing quickens, his hands steady against Mickey's back. He lifts his head, finally gathering the courage to really _look_ at Mickey; the brunette is panting, yearning to be touched, his ass rocking against Ian's cock, chest heaving and clammed with sweat. Ian smiles, his whole face burning from the continuous routine of the gesture. His hands fall to Mickey's ass, gripping it playfully with a slightly hard hold. Mickey rolls his hips, hissing through his teeth, one hand falling back and landing on the top of Ian's that moved with the rut of his hips.

“That's it. Yeah. That's fucking it.” Ian whispers, over and over, his mouth trailing over Mickey's damp chest, pecking at the skin lightly with adoration of the statue of his body. His freehand moves from Mickey's back, cupping at the older man's face instead. “Uh, huh.” He huffs out, before gently placing a kiss against Mickey's lips, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of Mickey's neck.

They rock together, hips clashing, Mickey's legs burning with a strain of riding Ian's cock in a continuous rhythm. The bed springs squeak, the headboard knocking slightly against the plaster board of a wall. Ian groans into the kiss, nearly coming close when Mickey's ass clenched hard around his dick. He loved this; Mickey riding him like he was _born_ to it; the deep intimacy of their chests squished together, their bodies wrapped into one as they freed themselves from the reigns of everything else.

Ian rolls his hips, matching Mickey's, his thrusts painfully slow inside of Mickey. His hands move with Mickey's ass, back and forth, back and forth, and his nails dig into the soft skin. Mickey grunts into the kiss, his tongue sloppily trying to catch Ian's as they danced for movement. His ass rocked against Ian's dick, hitting _that_ spot on many occasions. Mickey feels himself turning into a wet, sweaty mess, his whole body nearly shaking uncontrollably at the filling, sweet sensation. Nails digging into Ian's back, he licks up the droplets of sweat rolling down the beam of Ian's neck.

Then it builds; their bodies moving faster, more erratic, more sloppy, more _needy._ Mickey frantically rocks his hips, legs burning incredibly as he tried to keep up the pace. Ian nearly falls back, his arms wrapped around Mickey's waist as he threw in some immense, hard thrusts to match Mickey's pleading speed. His mouth attacks Mickey's, teeth clashing, tongues eager to feel, his teeth sinking into the soft, chapped skin of Mickey's lips.

“Shit, I'm gonna – shit-” Ian gasps, trying to remain controlled. His hips erratically pound into Mickey, nearly toppling him over the edge of the bed. Mickey rushes, rapidly, in a bounce against Ian's cock, his whole body sat in Ian's lap, legs like wildfire, arms tight against Ian's neck. In a wonder, Mickey feels himself release all over his chest, hips still moving, mouth still running with Ian's. Loudly, he groans, “Ah, Fuck. _Ian.”_

As Mickey's hips slow down, his body still trembling around Ian, those three words just tip it off. Ian feels himself reach his climax, his hips and entire body crumbling in a sweet, unexplainable, spark of sensation that fled through him. Mickey shuddered in his lap, kissing at his lips as if to say, _It's okay. I've got you._ Ian smiles, trying to catch his breath as his hips rolled just a couple more times.

Mickey kisses down Ian's face, pecking at his skin all over; his nose, his jaw, his collarbones, chest, shoulders. With hardly any air, Ian knocks his head against Mickey's chest, arms loosening but still wrapped tightly around Mickey's waist. “Holy fucking shit, that was -”

“ _Perfect.”_ Mickey finishes the sentence, cupping the side of Ian's face.

They have come on their chests, a condom filled entirely, an empty bottle of lube and a neighbour who _really_ had enough of their headboard knocking so loudly – but – all Ian could care for, was the fact that Mickey was smiling like a dumb idiot, a lobsided grin plastered all over his face like he had just seen the Holy Grail or something. But, by gosh, did he love it.


End file.
